'Sebring'. The name
connotes speed and endurance in auto racing. On New Year's Eve, 1950,
this sleepy Florida town became the site of America's revived interest
in long-distance endurance racing when airport runways at Hendricks
Field, just outside Sebring, were pressed into service for top-speed
competition.

Alec Ulmann, an
aeronautical engineer, had been looking for storage sites for
war-surplus aircraft to be converted to civilian use or to be rebuilt
for the air forces of smaller nations. While visiting Hendricks Field,
Ulmann, an auto-racing enthusiast, saw in the mile-long runways the
possibilities of a smaller-scale Le Mans endurance race there. Obsessed
with the concept, he worked with Sebring business friend Col. C.D.
Richardson to organize such an event as soon as enough interest in the
world of auto racing could be mustered.

And this race would
espouse the French "David against Goliath" concept of handicap racing
competition by adopting the Index of Performance. In this system, cars
with either small and large engines would be equalized by imposing a
lower average speed, or a shorter distance to travel for the smaller
engines as compared to the more powerful cars.

Hendricks Field had
few amenities for spectators; no grandstands, security, ticket booths
or public-address system, and few lavatories. By enticing the local
firemen's association to become involved, and with a small group of
sports-car enthusiasts, Ulmann, Richardson and Ulmann's wife Mary set
out to put together America's first modern-day major endurance auto
race, a "Little Le Mans".

To everyone's
surprise, the response was much larger than anticipated. Over thirty
cars entered from all across the US and Canada.

Bobby (Ralph)
Deshon owned an MG TC with a supercharged engine. He had planned on
racing the TC in the Sebring race. The race officials had come up with
a handicap ruling, to make all the different cars equal, regardless of
their engine size. (The handicap system was widely used throughout
Europe.) They would take the size of the engine and convert the cubic
inches into cubic centimeters (cc) and multiply it by a certain number,
and that was the number of laps the car had to finish to win the race.
Then if the the car had a supercharger to boost horse power that number
was again multiplied by .04, which roughly equaled to about another 20
laps that car would have to finish.

Bobby had decided
to sit out the race, because the MG TC could not be competitive against
the Ferrari's. Just then Vic Sharpe had shown up in his Hot Shot, with
tires for another friend Tommy Cole, who was driving an Allard Cadillac
in the race. (Vic Sharpe had at the time owned the local Crosley
franchise.) Tommy Cole had suggested to Bobby that the little Crosley
might have a chance to win because of the little engine size. (The
Crosley had to complete 288.3 miles, while the Ferrari had to complete
363.6 miles.) He would have to run the little car in high gear without
shifting, and he would need the help of Frits Koster another driver
with much racing experience. (Frits had just recently arrived in the
U.S. from Holland) The next time Vic saw his car, the windshield was
removed and a small piece of plexiglas had been bolted to the cowl
rubber and the car was going around the track on practice runs. (Vic
was good friends with Bobby, Frits, and Tommy Cole.) Since Vic did not
hold an SCCA (Sport Car Club Of America) license, Frits, and Bobby
would drive the car in the race.

The race track was
marked with a few hay bales, a couple of signs, and the pits were just
a row of folding tables tied together with 2x4s. 28 cars had shown up
to the starting line. The cars lined up at a 45-degree angle to the
track at the makeshift pits, the Crosley was in 28th spot, dead last.
At the 3:00 pm green-flag signal the drivers were to sprint across the
tarmac into their cars, start engines, and hurry off on the six-hour
run. (Driver John Bentley, delayed at his car in last-minute
preparations, was seen to then run in the opposite direction, toward
the other drivers, causing much mirth among the spectators.) While the
little Crosley was one of the slowest cars on the track, it's
consistent lap speed quickly took the lead on the handicapping index.

After the first
hour of racing, the handicap formula showed, to everyone's amazement,
that No. 19, the little Crosley driven by Frits Koster and Ralph
Deshon, was in first place. In a close second was Jim Kimberly's No. 55
2-litre Ferrari, and holding down third place was Bob Keller in an
1100-cc Fiat, No. 20. Fourth was a Cadillac-engined Allard, No. 34,
driven by Tommy Cole, who had himself hours earlier driven the Crosley
around the track.

No. 11 was first to
fail, Kurt Hildebrand's rebodied Volkswagen, out with no oil pressure.

At the end of the
second hour, No. 27, a Mercury-powered Allard had to drop out, leaving
26 cars in the racing pack. The Crosley Hotshot remained in the lead,
but the No 20 Fiat edged ahead of Kimberly's Ferrari.

As the third hour
ended, another Ferrari, Luigi Chinetti's No. 17, began to lose oil but
continued on by making frequent pit stops. And at this time a mechanic
caused Tommy Cole's stalled Allard to be disqualified by running over
to help, amidst loud protest from the car's owner. Now there were 25
cars left in the race.

As darkness began
to fall, the headlights came on. Marshall Lewis replaced Jim Kimberly
in the Ferrari, and overtook Keller's Fiat. But despite many changes of
position and the loss of four more cars, the Crosley never dropped out
of the lead.

It was Bobby's
first time in an endurance race, and he had made a couple of mistakes
that cost them some distance. He tried to shift the non-synchro trans
in the turns and lost a lot of speed. It was because of Frits's great
driving ability that they were able to make up the lost distance. Frits
kept the little car in high gear and just let it scream on the
straightaways. Going into the corners they would just sit up and let
the air resistance blowing against their body slow them down for the
turn, once through the turn they would slide back down in the seat. Vic
had figured the little engine ran about 7500 rpm all the way through
the race. That night as Vic was driving the Hot Shot home he lost oil
pressure in the engine. The car had to be towed the rest of the way,
Vic took off the pan, and removed the oil pump to find that the oil
pump gears were completely chewed up from the high rev's. He put on a
new pump that night and drove the car back to the Sebring track the
following day for a photo shoot. (Most of the pictures of the car at
the race track, including a recent drawing and prints from the drawing
and those show here were from the next day, posed on the track. The car
did not have hub caps on the day of the race)

The Sebring race
has transcended its humble beginnings to become the annual weeklong
American tradition in long-distance endurance races, though now it
lasts twelve hours rather than six. After the first Sebring race,
Crosley continued to do well in racing, including such events as Le
Mans and the Grand Prix de la Suisse, and still do well in Veteran
sports car racing.

This story is a
combination of two Sebring stories, one by Barry Seel, past owner of
#19 and the other by Louis Rugani. A lot of errors have shown up in
print over the years when describing the first Sebring race. With input
from some of those involved and articles those same people wrote, I
hope this is close to the real story. Current owner Bill
Cunningham
has his own #19
Page.